


Stille Nacht

by BattleshipGarcy



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Battlefield, Christmas Gift Exchange, Christmas Truce 1914, Christmas fic, F/M, First Kiss, Garcy Holidays, WW1, World War I, garcy, lost and possibly stranded in the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattleshipGarcy/pseuds/BattleshipGarcy
Summary: The team has followed Emma Whitmore to Belgium in December of 1914. The team gets separated while trying to escape a battle and Lucy and Garcia find themselves seeking medical aid and shelter in a World War I trench.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn & Lucy Preston, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	Stille Nacht

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Burgundy_In_Chaucer for beta reading, helping with edits, and suggestions to make this story better <\--- and for all the laughs about Wyatt :D

_“What appears from the winter fog and misery is a Christmas story, a fine Christmas story that is, in truth, the most faded and tattered of adjectives: inspiring.”_ – The Wallstreet Journal, 1915

\-----

Trying to stay alive in the middle of a blizzard, in a World War I battlefield, during an actual battle, while hunting Emma Whitmore, was not how Garcia Flynn had imagined he’d be spending Christmas Eve. Only a few hours ago, he had been warm, and comfortable, sitting next to Lucy with his arm around her shoulders, next to the bunker’s beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Tchakovsky’s _The Nutcracker_ was playing in the background and the smell of Christmas Eve dinner filled the air. For two Christmases in a row, Rittenhouse had never taken the Mothership back during the holiday, and they had no reason to expect it to happen this year. Until it did.

Wyatt had been kneeling by the tree, wearing a Santa hat while shaking presents, trying to guess what everyone got for everyone else for Christmas, when the Mothership alarm ruined the evening. Rufus had hurried over to the computers hoping it was just a malfunction, but then he read out the place and time: Christmas Eve, 1914 near Montquintin, Belgium – just a few miles north of the French border.

Garcia throws himself down into the snow to avoid being shot by a German soldier. He lies there, face down with his hands over his head as there’s an explosion nearby. He feels snow and dirt fall on top of him. He holds his breath for a moment, waits, and then lifts his head and sees that the soldier who had shot at him is lying dead only a few feet away from him.

The noise from the constant gunfire and canons is deafening as he looks out ahead of him as he stands up. It’s near whiteout conditions and he can’t see where the rest of the team is. He thought they had been right behind him, but now they’re nowhere to be seen. He huffs as he backtracks, keeping his eye out for Lucy, Rufus and Wyatt. They’ve been tracking down Emma ever since they arrived here early this morning. The latest information they received led them right into this battle, and he thinks that Emma set it up as a trap so she could go about her own Rittenhouse business without them on her tail.

Not five minutes ago, he had been running, holding Lucy’s hand in his, trying to get the Hell out of this battle and back to the Lifeboat so they could figure out what the Hell they were going to do next. He squints as the cold wind stings his eyes. He holds his arm out in front of him to block the falling snow. He sees Wyatt running toward him.

_Thank God!_

Garcia hurries toward Wyatt, looking behind him to see if Lucy and Rufus are with him. They are not. Suddenly, Wyatt falls hard to the ground and rolls onto his back. He holds his knee and screams out in excruciating pain. _This is exactly what I wanted to avoid in the first place, but no… Wyatt insisted that we needed to head out into this damn battle to find Emma. Idiot._ Garcia thinks to himself as he rushes to Wyatt and falls to his knees beside him. Dirt from another explosion falls over the two men.

“World War One sucks!” Wyatt shouts at Garcia.

“Where were you hit?” Garcia shouts. He places his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. He may not like Wyatt very much, but they are in this fight together.

“Wasn’t hit.” Wyatt groans. “I lost my damn balance and fell on my knee.”

Garcia shakes his head and as he helps Wyatt to his feet, he lets out an inhuman noise.

“What is it?” Garcia asks, concerned.

“I think I sprained my ankle.” Wyatt hates that this shit keeps happening to him on missions, making him question his own abilities as a soldier. He grasps onto the sleeve of Garcia’s stolen British Army uniform trench coat.

“If you think I’m gonna carry you back to the Lifeboat, you’re gravely mistaken.” Garcia lies. If Wyatt needed him to carry him over his damn shoulder to get back to the Lifeboat, he would. As he wraps Wyatt’s arm around his shoulder, he scans the battlefield for Lucy and Rufus. He shakes his head in frustration with Wyatt. “Did you see which direction Lucy and Rufus went?”

“Emma showed up.” Wyatt groans.

“What?!”

“Yeah, she blindsided me and stole my weapon. I was running after you for help.”

“You left Lucy and Rufus behind?”

 _What the fuck is this shit?_ Garcia sneers at Wyatt, throws his arm off his shoulder, and pushes him to the side. Without another look at the younger man, Garcia heads back in the direction the idiot came from. _What the fuck was he thinking leaving Lucy and Rufus alone with Emma? And she managed to get his gun? Why didn’t he try to help them?_ Garcia’s fuming. If they were back home at the bunker, he’d pause to have some very strong words with Wyatt, but fuck him.

He has to find Lucy.

He has to find Rufus.

He has to find a loaded gun.

He has his Glock 23 inside his coat pocket, but he used up all its ammunition within minutes of entering this battlefield. He rushes ahead, blinded by the falling snow. He sees a German soldier and heads straight for him. He’ll knock the guy out and steal his rifle. The soldier attempts to stab his bayonet into Garcia, he misses and Garcia grabs the rifle and pulls it out of his hands. Garcia uses the blunt end of the weapon to knock the man off his feet. He continues forward, eyes scanning for Lucy and Rufus.

He checks the ammunition of the rifle.

It’s empty.

He lets out a sigh of frustration as another German soldier charges him, and because Garcia has no right killing anyone in this battle – knocking men off their feet, yes. Killing them, no – he refuses to fight the man to the death with the bayonet. He easily knocks the man off his feet and keeps trudging ahead through the slush.

“Flynn!”

Garcia stops when he hears Rufus call out for him. He looks out among all the chaos around him and sees Rufus.

“FLYNN!” Rufus is running toward him and Lucy is not with him. “Emma…” Rufus pants. “She showed up and Lucy… she got Lucy.”

“Which way did they go?” Garcia’s heart is pounding in his chest. If Emma has hurt Lucy, or… killed her, he’ll never forgive himself for not keeping her at arm’s length this entire time.

“Opposite from where I came.” Rufus points behind him.

Garcia nods his head and looks at Rufus. “Are you hurt?” He asks.

“I’m good… well… good for now. Hope to stay good. I just want to get out of this mess.”

Garcia nods his head and looks at Rufus. “Wyatt is back that way. He thinks he sprained his ankle. Find him. I’ll get Lucy. We’ll meet back at the Lifeboat.” Garcia holds out the rifle. “Here, take this. It’s empty, but you can use the bayonet if you need it.”

Rufus nods his head and takes the weapon. He pats Garcia on the back and runs off in search of Wyatt.

Garcia looks around. How the Hell is he supposed to find Lucy and Emma in the middle of this battle? All he can do is continue on, keep his eyes and ears open. And he won’t return to the Lifeboat until he has Lucy whether she’s dead or alive. The thought of finding her dead on this frozen battlefield terrifies him. After everything they’ve been through, after how hard both of them worked to make things good between them over these past couple years… the feelings he has for her that he hasn’t quite expressed, and the feelings he thinks that she has for him... He feels tears sting his eyes.

_No. I can’t lose her too._

“Flynn!”

He hears Lucy scream his name. She can see him, but he doesn’t see her. He picks up his pace and is running in the direction of her voice. He searches for her as he runs. Then, he sees her. She’s fighting Emma and holding her own. He runs toward her as she kicks Emma hard in the shin, grabbing onto the redhead’s wrist to prevent her from firing her gun. The women fall into the snow. Emma has the upper hand and straddles Lucy who is doing her best to keep the muzzle of Emma’s gun away from her.

Emma pulls the trigger and a spattering of dirt flies up into the air next to Lucy’s head.

“LUCY!” Garcia calls out to her.

Emma looks at him and is on her feet, running as fast as she can away from them both. But then Lucy is on her feet, chasing after Emma. Emma turns and fires her gun at Lucy.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

On the third shot, Lucy drops to the ground.

She’s hit.

Nothing else matters to Garcia.

He slides across the cold, wet ground and collapses onto his knees at her side. He gives one last glance at Emma as she disappears into the battle. He looks down at Lucy. There’s blood on the ground near her. She’s bleeding. He gently rolls her over onto her back to check her over. Her lip is bleeding and she winces as she clutches onto her arm where she’s been shot.

“She was shooting at Rufus.” Lucy struggles to sit up. They both duck as a canon is fired behind them. “I told him to run away and,” she groans in pain, “I tried to stop her, but…”

Garcia nods his head. He understands. They’ve talked at length about what it takes to actually kill another human being. Lucy had been at her rope’s end in Chinatown a year and a half ago. She had been capable of pulling the trigger to kill Emma then, but a few missions after that, during the Great Fire of London in September of 1666, she had the opportunity to do it again and froze, unable to kill. She blamed herself for not stopping Rittenhouse then, for not killing their only pilot. She had asked him how he came to be such a proficient killer, and he had no answer. Only that he had enough practice.

“Try not to move your arm, Lucy.” He says.

She shakes her head and pushes herself onto her feet. She takes a step forward and stumbles into him, disoriented from her fight with Emma.

“Here.” Garcia places Lucy’s arm around his neck.

“I can walk on my own.” She says, knowing that she needs his support.

Garcia ducks as he hears a bullet whirr by his head. They have to get out of here.

“We need to get back to the Lifeboat and… I think we need to accept that we didn’t win this one.” He feels Lucy grasp onto his arm. He looks down at her. “I need to get a good look at that gunshot wound.”

“Where are Rufus and Wyatt?” Lucy starts walking, leading them toward a forested area to their left.

“I saw Rufus and told him to get Wyatt and meet us back at the Lifeboat.”

Lucy stumbles again and shakes her head to try to help herself focus. She looks up at Garcia. “What if Emma finds them? She was trying to kill Rufus so _we_ wouldn’t be able to get back home.” She shakes her head. “And we still don’t know why she was here and what she’s done to change history to help Rittenhouse.”

“It doesn’t matter, Lucy. She’s hurt you, she’s trying to kill Rufus, and Wyatt thinks that he sprained his damn ankle. We need to get out of here before things get worse.” He looks down at Lucy and she angrily looks away from him, shaking her head. “There’ll be other chances to stop her.” He says quietly, knowing she doesn’t want to accept this mission as a defeat.

Lucy looks behind her at the battlefield. The blizzard continues to rage along with the war. Men drop like flies and their blood stains the snow, turning it into slush. It won’t be long before the sun has set which will only make it more difficult to find their way back to the Lifeboat. She sighs and focuses on the direction they are headed. In the woods they could face more trench warfare, mines, and barbed wire. Just because they’ve made it out of the battle doesn’t mean that they are safe.

Emma is still out there, and Lucy knows that Garcia is right. There will be other opportunities to stop Rittenhouse, but for now… they need to get back home safely.

\-----

Night has fallen and along with the sun, the sounds of gunfire and war have faded.

It’s only been an hour since they entered these woods. They should have found the Lifeboat by now, but they have not. Garcia’s arm is wrapped tightly around Lucy as they trudge together through the freshly fallen snow. They stumble through abandoned rifles, bayonets, helmets, and dead bodies. Garcia is on high alert. It’s obvious there was a skirmish here earlier today. He and Lucy are most likely walking in No Man’s Land, the ground between two opposing trenches. He knows it’s possible that they are being watched.

The snow is barely falling from the sky now, and the clouds are parting to allow the half moon to shine down on them which makes it easier to avoid tripping over the various objects left on the ground from the day’s previous battle. He slows his pace and guides Lucy around barbed wire that’s barely noticeable underneath the snow. She takes a step and slips and nearly falls into a water-filled hole made by a shell that exploded.

Lucy winces as Garcia pulls her up by her injured arm, away from the hole. She looks at him and he looks at her, and they say nothing. They both know that they are lost. They both know that the chances of finding the Lifeboat tonight are slim. They are both worried for Rufus and Wyatt.

They’re both worried that they might be taken prisoner, or at the very worst shot and killed.

And where is Emma…?

Garcia steps over a fallen tree trunk and reaches out to help Lucy. She stifles a cry as he touches her arm to steady her as she steps down. She’s in pain. She’s tired, exhausted, and he hasn’t mentioned wanting to stop. She knows that he wants to get them back safely so she refuses to tell him that her arm is throbbing and that she’s feeling lightheaded so she hangs onto his arm and continues with him.

She glances up at him, he’s focused on the path ahead of them. What was he thinking when he knelt beside her and let Emma go? It wasn’t the first time, nor does Lucy think it will be the last time, that Garcia Flynn has put her first, ahead of his mission – their mission – to destroy Rittenhouse.

She knows why he does it.

They’ve never talked about it beyond her asking him in Chinatown.

She knows he is here for her.

Sometimes when he’s frustrated, he’s talked to her about how easy it would be for him to steal the Lifeboat and go back and finish off Rittenhouse – on his own – once and for all. He’s talked about how he feels held back by everyone in the bunker except for her. Denise gives him orders and he obeys them since she could send him back to prison with the snap of her fingers. Rufus still doesn’t completely trust him and since Rufus is the pilot, Garcia often cedes important (Lifeboat) decisions to him. Jiya keeps her distance which only makes him feel like no one really wants him here as part of the team. Connor is cordial with him, but they never talk about anything deeper than music and theatre. And of course, there’s Wyatt who hates Garcia just as much as Garcia hates him.

He has no reason to stay in the bunker.

No reason except for her.

Even if she’s noticed that most of the team has been warming up to him in recent months.

But not enough to make him truly feel like he belongs.

If he’s even noticed.

She is the only one who has become his friend. She’s his only friend. She’s the only person he can talk to, and she feels the same way about him. So yes, he hasn’t said it aloud, but Lucy knows that she is the reason he stays. She is the reason he is here.

But… there’s more. There’s another truth that he hasn’t said aloud as to why he stays. He hasn’t said the words, but he shows her every day. It’s in the way that he looks at her. The way he always has a warm cup of coffee ready for her in the morning. The reason he’ll stand in the doorway of the bathroom and allow her to use up all the warm water before he showers. It’s in the way he speaks to her. What he speaks to her about. How he opens up and tells her about who he is, the good and the bad. He’s allowed her to see him cry. To comfort him when the pain is too much. She knows his regrets. She knows his hopes. She knows what he wants to do when this war against Rittenhouse is over. He trusts her. He trusts her more than anyone else in this world.

There’s no question or doubt in her mind… he loves her.

“You haven’t said anything for a while, Lucy.” He says, making his words sound like a question. He’s concerned. Her hold on his arm has been weakening. He knows that she needs medical attention and rest if they’re to ever find their way back to the Lifeboat tonight – _please let it be just over that hill_. Even though fighting has subsided, he knows that nighttime can be the most dangerous. Soldiers on either side of the war use the cover of night to observe their enemy. He doesn’t want them to get caught or to be the cause of another skirmish. When she doesn’t respond to him, he stops and looks down at her, “Lucy?”

“Hm?” She mumbles, her eyes fixed on the ground.

He takes off his glove and presses the back of his hand against her cheek. She’s freezing cold, and there’s not much he can do about it. She’s already wearing a large tan trench coat, matching trousers, and boots. He reaches behind her head and releases her hair from its loose bun. He moves her hair around her ears and neck to try to warm her up.

“I’m sorry that this is how we’re spending our Christmas Eve.” He whispers as he stares into her eyes. “But just think… once we get home, I’ll get you patched up, and Agent Christopher will have hot chocolate and Christmas Eve dinner ready for us to eat.” He smiles at her. “I’ll even give you a long foot massage to warm you up if you’re still cold.”

Tears well up in Lucy’s eyes as she steps toward him, “Garcia…” Her voice breaks as she presses her face against his chest. Her hands clutching the lapels of his trench coat.

He knows his words are not enough.

He places his hand on the back of her head and holds her. He never should have continued on once her hand left his in that battlefield. He should have stopped immediately and stayed with her, but he had been too focused on finding a way out of the battle that he trusted that she would be all right. If he hadn’t been focused on the team, if he had only been focused on her, then maybe he could have prevented Emma from hurting her. Maybe he could have killed Emma and ended this whole damn thing.

_Maybe I’m losing my desire to fight this war… is it still worth the risk to my life? To Lucy’s life? Maybe I can let it go… move on… start a new life now that I have… her._

He takes a breath and pulls away from Lucy. His hands shake as he unbuttons her coat. He hadn’t realized how cold he is as well. But that doesn’t matter. She’s shaking her head and telling him “no.” He opens his mouth to protest and then she’s pressing her body against his again. Her cheek against his chest and she’s crying, shivering. He knows that all she wants – all she needs – from him right now is the warmth of his body against hers. The others aren’t here with them and she knows that she doesn’t have to be the strong one. She can show her vulnerability with him. And hearing her cry, all he wants to do is wrap his arms around her, sit down against a tree and hold her. Protect her. Give her everything and anything she wants. But they can’t stop. Not out here in No Man’s Land. They have to keep going. But he at least needs to check her wound. He hasn’t looked at it at all since they made their way out of the battlefield. What if it’s worse than they think?

He sighs and places his hand on the back of her neck. He leans down and speaks quietly into her ear, “I need to look at your wound, sweetheart.” His heart skips a beat, and he holds his breath. He’s never called her _sweetheart_ before and he’s seen on other missions how others calling her that never goes over well. He averts his eyes when she looks at him. Then he feels her cold fingertips touch his chin and lift his head so he’s looking into her eyes, they’re not filled with anger or frustration, no. Her eyes sparkle in the newfound moonlight. She’s weak, but she manages to smile at him, nodding to let him know that he can check on her wound.

With his eyes fixed on the buttons of her coat, he works carefully to release her arm from its sleeve. She cries out as he pulls away the torn fabric of her blouse sleeve to expose the wound. Her hand digs into his arm as she holds onto him.

It breaks his heart to see her in pain and to hear her cry.

He examines the bullet wound as best he can and sighs in relief.

“It’s a deep graze. It’ll need a good cleaning and stitches, that’s all.” He smiles.

“I guess now might be a good time to tell you that I’ve been lightheaded for a good part of the last hour.” She wipes the tears from her face as she manages to give him a smile. “I probably just need something to eat.” She says as she slides her arm back into the coat sleeve.

“C’mere…” He says in a breath, reaching out to take her in his arms.

A branch snaps behind him and then a man is yelling at them in a thick English accent. “STEP AWAY FROM THE WOMAN AND RAISE YOUR ARMS IN THE AIR!” He repeats himself in German. “ARME IN DER LUFT!”

Garcia and Lucy lock eyes. They remain calm. Garcia nods his head at Lucy so that she knows that this is not going to be too much trouble. He slowly backs away from Lucy and turns around, raising his arms above his head.

The British soldier is only about fifteen paces in front of him. His rifle aimed at Garcia.

“I’m unarmed.” Garcia says cautiously, raising his voice so the man can hear him clearly.

“What kind of accent is that?” The soldier asks. “Are you German? Sind Sie deutsch?”

Garcia glances back at Lucy and knows that she’ll go along with whatever cover story he makes up on the spot.

“Serbian.” He answers.

The soldier relaxes and lowers his rifle. Serbia is on the side of the Allies and therefore he doesn’t view Garcia and Lucy as his enemy. He steps toward them, less wary of them than before, but still with his guard up until he knows exactly what is going on. “You’re a long way from home… and why are you dressed in a British Army uniform?”

“I stole it off a dead man.” Garcia tells him without any further explanation.

“Why aren’t you with your regiment in Serbia?”

“Got tired of fighting the Austro-Hungarians. So, when fighting broke out in Valjevo, I took the chance to ditch.” Garcia explains, then adding, “I did hear that Serbia retook the capital, so it looks like my presence wasn’t needed-”

“Who’s the woman? And why is she out here with you in a battlefield on Christmas Eve? You’re not trying to hurt her, are you?”

Lucy steps forward, touching Garcia on the arm as she addresses the soldier. “My name’s Lucy and this is my…” She’s suddenly aware that she speaks with an American accent, she can’t lie and say she’s Serbian. “You see, he’s my…” She looks up at Garcia to help her out.

“My name’s Luka. Luka Kovač.” He extends his hand to the soldier and they shake. “Lucy is my fiancée. I wanted to see her for Christmas and meet her family.”

“I teach English in Brussels and my dad he… he’s been living in Belgium since before the war began.” Lucy continues.

“Like everyone else, I was expecting to be in Belgium for Christmas because I thought the war would be over by now.” Garcia says as he looks away from the soldier and smiles down at Lucy.

“He shows up at my father’s home in Bruges and the next day I foolishly insisted that he return to his post in Serbia. Right, Luka?” She places her hand on his arm and leans on him for support.

“You know how silly women are.” Garcia says to the soldier, who nods his head. “She followed me to make sure that I kept my word, that I was going back to Serbia. And I was bringing her back home when we got caught in the middle of that battle earlier today and she got shot. In the arm.”

“It hurts.” Lucy adds.

Garcia looks around. He can’t see from where they stand, but he knows now for sure that there are trenches out here among the snow-covered trees. “Any chance you could provide medical assistance so I can get her back to her father?”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Please, follow me.” He motions to them. “We have a nurse in our trench. She showed up with supplies early this morning, saved a young man’s life. I’m sure she can help your fiancée.” He looks back at them. “Name’s Charles, by the way. I’m from Birmingham where I have a family of my own…”

Lucy tugs at Garcia’s arm as Charles continues to talk about his family back in England, and how much he wants to see his wife and infant daughter again. Garcia looks down at her.

“Luka Kovač?” She narrows her eyes. “I know we’ve been binging ER back home, but why use an alias? You hate using aliases. You haven’t used one ever since Rufus kept making fun of you and calling you Isaiah.” She pauses. “That was over a year ago.”

“Try explaining why I’m from Serbia and named Garcia. It’s easier to use an alias than risk suspicion.”

“Does this mean that I have to call you Luka?” She asks with a grin. “You could have gone with Garcia, you know. Spain remained neutral during the war and… your Spanish is amazing.”

Garcia can feel warmth spreading over his cheeks and he looks away from her with a sheepish grin on his face. He’s a forty-four year old man, and he wishes that by now he’d be able to take a compliment from the woman he adores without blushing.

“Why do you always do that?” Lucy asks, grinning up at him.

“Do what?”

“Smile and look away from me anytime I give you a compliment.”

He rubs his hand on the back of his neck. He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I guess even after all this time I’m used to being insulted. You know that I get more insults thrown my way than compliments, right?”

The smile is gone from Lucy’s face and she looks sad.

“Jiya adores you, you know. She’s always complaining about how you end conversations with her quickly and walk away.”

“I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

“And Rufus… he likes to pick on you, but that’s just his way of showing another man that he thinks of him as a friend. Sure, he jokes about how he doesn’t trust you because of the Al Capone thing, but come on…” Lucy nudges him. “You two work so well together on missions. Jiya’s even taken to calling you two Team Flufus.”

“Flufus?” Garcia winces at the name.

“Denise talks to you about her family, she doesn’t do that often. She likes to keep her personal life separate from her work life, but with you… Garcia… with you she tells you all about dance recitals and how Mark burns every meal he attempts making for her and Michelle.”

“If she only talks to me about them then how do you know that?”

“I eavesdrop.” Lucy says, shrugging her shoulders. She’s not going to lie. “And you and Connor… do you even remember how you two were during the World Cup in 2018? It was like watching two old college drinking buddies meet up after years apart, and not missing a beat as you fought over whether or not Croatia or England would win the title.”

“Prokleta Francuska.” Garcia grumbles under his breath, obviously still disappointed that France beat Croatia in the finals. He shakes his head and then asks, “And what about Wyatt?”

“Wyatt…” Lucy’s smile fades. “To be honest, I think that things could be better between you two if…” She trails off. “Look. He’s jealous of you because I spend so much time with you. He’s jealous that we’re friends. He’s jealous that you’re my best friend. And you… I get the feeling that you think that it’s only a matter of time before I fall in love with him and that makes you jealous of him.”

Silence.

They continue following Charles toward his trench. The snow has become loud crunching beneath their feet. All Garcia wants to ask her is if she knows about how he really feels for her. She obviously is aware that the tension between himself and Wyatt is because of their feelings for her. But that doesn’t mean that she feels the same way for him as he feels for her. He clears his throat.

“I got him a gift this year for Christmas.” He says, changing the subject.

“You know he doesn’t read that much, right?”

“I know. But I thought it might be something he would enjoy because not only can he read a good story, but he can use the book to help brush up on his German.”

“Please tell me that you didn’t get him an English-German dictionary.” Lucy says, trying not to laugh.

“No.” He smiles. “I got him the German language version of The Book Thief. I figured after three years of time travelling that maybe he’s developed an interest in history and he might want to read it.”

“I wish I understood German.” Lucy laments.

“I could teach you. You’re doing great with Croatian.”

“You lie, but thank you… hvala.”

“Your accent is adorable, Lucy.”

Without thinking, Garcia leans down and places a kiss on top of Lucy’s head as if it’s the most natural thing between the two of them. Only… it has _never_ happened before. Their conversation stops dead in its tracks and Garcia can only manage to clear his throat and step away from Lucy as she runs her hand nervously through her hair.

As if on cue, to save them from this awkwardness, Charles turns around and addresses them. “If you two love birds are done flirting… we’re here.” He points toward the ground at a muddy slope that poses as the entrance down into the trench. “Sorry there’s no ladder, we had to use it to transport the injured back into the trench yesterday. It broke so now we just have to be careful sliding down.” He gives Lucy a sympathetic smile.

Garcia looks Lucy in the eye as he steps forward and looks down into the trench. It’s dug deep, he estimates just over seven feet deep and five feet wide. He lowers himself and places his hands on the sandbags that sit atop the front of the trench. He starts to lower himself down as Charles stands behind Lucy to protect her from any possible surprise enemy fire.

The entry slope is wet and slippery from ice and snow. Garcia loses his footing and stumbles down. He places his hand against the wall to prevent himself from falling face first into the ankle-deep mud. He looks around him and is horrified by what he sees. This particular regiment must have seen action very recently as there are corpses lying all around, some that look even a couple days old.

The heavy snowfall from the day has melted and though he can feel the wooden planks beneath his feet, they are covered with mud. He looks up at Lucy and hates himself that he couldn’t figure out where the Hell they left the Lifeboat. But Charles says that this trench has a nurse and he has nothing on him to properly care for her bullet wound so, Garcia reaches up to Lucy, waving his hands at her to let her know that he’ll help her down so she doesn’t fall. She lowers herself to him, steadying her hands on the sandbags as he takes hold of her waist, lifting her up and then down beside him.

Lucy looks at Garcia and then at her surroundings. She locks eyes with one of the soldiers who is leaning against the wall, sobbing. She closes her eyes and swallows hard as he turns his back to her and limps away.

Charles expertly slides down into the trench and leans toward Lucy and explains, “Trench foot. He’s known for a few days now that he’ll be losing his leg since it’s become gangrenous.” He turns to Garcia. “Luka, I hope you two aren’t planning on staying too long, we expect more fighting tomorrow.”

“I’m hoping we can leave later tonight.”

Charles nods his head and looks at Lucy. “Follow me, I saw Anna just this way not long ago. She can’t have gone too far.”

As Charles leads Garcia and Lucy through the narrow maze of the trench, Lucy has to cover her mouth and nose to keep herself from getting sick from the stench. They pass several corpses, shell-shocked soldiers, and a long-haired dog that is gnawing on a dead rat. Lucy quickly averts her eyes and grabs onto Garcia.

In high school and college, she studied World War I. She knows all about living conditions in the trenches. The ankle-deep mud, overflowing latrines, the rats, and the dead bodies left to rot, but what her history classes never taught was how awful the smells of war were. Nor did they teach how horrifying an experience it is to simply walk through the trenches so soon after a battle.

Nothing except first-hand experience can prepare you for this. She looks at Garcia and though he’s doing his best to breathe through his mouth, she can tell that even he – an experienced soldier – is having difficulty with the sights and smells of World War I.

Feeling light-headed, she realizes that she’s been holding her breath so she inhales and immediately starts to gag, the stench is so putrid she can taste it in her mouth. She bends over at the waist and heaves. Garcia stops and rests his hand on her upper back as she vomits.

“Lucy?” His voice is raw, he hates that they have found themselves in this situation and that it’s made her sick.

“I’m ok.” She says, standing up straight. She lowers her voice, “I can’t imagine that I’ll receive any kind of sanitary medical care though. The last thing I want is to be bedridden again and forced to sit out another mission or two because of infection.”

Charles stops and turns to them. He’s been overhearing much of what they’ve talked about and he’s come to the conclusion that perhaps Lucy isn’t exactly who she says she is. In fact, he’s convinced that she’s a spy for the Allies and that Garcia is her escort. “Here, have a seat in this dugout. It doesn’t offer the best protection in battle, but it’s not usual to be attacked after nightfall. I’ll go get my flask and find nurse Anna.”

Garcia steps aside so that Lucy can enter a shallow dugout in the side of the trench as Charles walks away. Lucy sits down on a small pile of sandbags in the corner. She’s appreciative to have a place to sit, but feels like the walls are closing in on her. She looks up at Garcia and forces a smile.

“Tight spaces.” She lets out a nervous laugh.

“As soon as we get your wound patched up, we’ll leave. We don’t want to be here once the sun rises.”

“I know.”

“Look, I can tell this Anna that I’m a doctor-”

“ _Doctor Kovač?”_ Lucy shakes her head and can’t help but laugh quietly.

“I’ll tell her that I’m a field medic with the Serbian Army and that I want to patch up my fiancée myself, and she need only to assist.” Garcia gives her an assuring smile. “At least that way I can make sure it’s as sanitary as possible given our current circumstances.”

“I give you permission to pee on it if that’s the only way to sanitize it.”

“I’m not going to pee on your arm, Lucy… urine isn’t sterile.” Garcia says very seriously, expecting her to laugh, but instead she lowers her head and starts crying.

“I just want to go home, Garcia.”

“And we’ll get home.” He leans down so he’s face-to-face with her. “I promise you that. But right now, we have no idea where we are. Neither one of us has a weapon and… I don’t know, Lucy. It might be safer for us to wait out the night in the trenches. At night, the Germans are observing and the last thing we need to deal with is being captured or… or killed on Christmas Eve.”

Lucy wipes a tear from her face and looks him in the eyes. “You do know that more soldiers died in the trenches from disease than they did from enemy bullets, right?” She asks rhetorically.

Garcia nods his head. “I’m not going to let you die, Lucy.”

Suddenly, behind him, he hears an all too familiar voice.

“Well, well, well…”

They are interrupted by none other than Emma Whitmore.

Startled by her voice, Garcia spins around and sees the redhead standing beside Charles.

“Anna, this is Luka and Lucy. She’s been shot and is in need of medical assistance.” Charles explains to Emma.

“So, she’s shot in the arm, huh, Luka?” She smiles at him and looks at Lucy. “Luka… that’s a cute name.” She chuckles and redirects her attention to Lucy. “Why don’t you show me your wound, princess?”

Garcia places his hand at his waist then remembers that the Glock 23 he has in his pocket isn’t loaded and would only be useful in hitting Emma hard with its grip. If Emma decides to stir up trouble – and he’s certain she’s armed – they’re fucked. He looks down at Lucy. She’s tense and both her hands are curled up in fists so tight that her knuckles are white.

“I brought some clean water to help clean her wound, as well as my Rum Ration for the day so you can do your best to sterilize it.” Charles says, handing both items to Emma.

Emma takes the water and alcohol from him and smiles sweetly at Charles and then at Garcia. She turns her attention back to Lucy. “Could you please remove your coat, Lucy?”

“I don’t… I…” Lucy stutters and looks to Garcia for help. She does not trust Emma Whitmore to tend to the bullet wound that she gave her no less than two hours ago.

Garcia clears his throat and speaks to Emma. “Nurse, if it’s not a problem, I would like to tend to my fiancée’s wound myself.”

“Fiancée? I had no idea. Although, perhaps it shouldn’t be such a surprise considering what was written in that diary, but isn’t there a certain someone else who gets in the way of that?” Emma asks, knowing she’s being an asshole. “What was his name… Wyatt?” She smiles. “Congratulations on your engagement anyway. Maybe it’ll work out this time around.”

“Do you know each other?” Charles asks.

“We’ve been acquainted.” Lucy says coolly. She glances at Garcia and nods toward Charles. Now that Emma is here, she thinks it might be safer for Charles to get back to the life he’s supposed to be living if they weren’t here interfering with history.

“Charles,” Garcia says, turning to the soldier and placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Lucy and I appreciate all your help, but I think we can take it from here. I’m sure your commanding officers prefer that you get back to your duties.”

“Yes, of course.” Charles says, giving a worried look toward Lucy. “I do hope that you are able to get her home safe. And I know that the war doesn’t make it feel like it, and we’re all so far from home, but… Merry Christmas.”

Charles pats Garcia on the back and bows at the waist to Lucy to show his respect.

Garcia smiles, “And a merry Christmas to you too… srećan Božić.”

The three of them watch as Charles walks away. The tension is building. Once he’s out of sight, Lucy stands up and is immediately, and forcefully pushed back down by Emma.

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?” And as soon as the words are out of Emma’s mouth, Garcia grabs her and pushes her up against the dugout wall. Emma smiles at him. She always enjoys being manhandled by a worthy nemesis. “What? Are you afraid I’m going to kill your precious little fiancée right here in the trenches?”

“You’re not going to lay a hand on her.” Garcia growls.

“Aww, come on… what if I want to help?” Emma coos.

“Why are you here? What did you change for Rittenhouse?” Garcia tightens his grip on the lapels of Emma’s coat and stares down at her.

“And if I told you that I’m not here for them, that I’m here for me?”

“You think I’ll buy that story again?”

“It wasn’t just a story in 1919 now, was it? I helped you stop the sleeper agent and saved your little girlfriend.” Emma smiles. “I’m not all bad.”

“You tried to kill her today.” His voice is rough as he tries to keep his voice low. “You shot her and were trying to kill Rufus.”

“Trying?” Emma laughs.

Lucy stands next to Garcia and looks at Emma.

“What do you mean _trying_?” She asks.

“I shot him. Last I saw he was still breathing, but if he didn’t get medical attention right away, I doubt he could survive.” Emma smiles. “And it’s not like Wyatt can pilot the Lifeboat, right?”

Lucy and Garcia share a look. If Emma succeeded in killing Rufus, they no longer have a pilot to get them back home to 2019. The only pilot here in 1914 is Emma Whitmore.

“Garcia…” Lucy touches him gently on the arm.

He turns his attention back to Emma.

“Did you or did you not kill Rufus?” He demands.

Emma laughs which prompts him to press his forearm hard against her neck. She coughs and stops laughing, her green eyes meet his, and the smile is wiped off her face. She winces and he lessens the pressure against her neck so she can speak.

“Ok, fine. He should survive. I saw Wyatt helping him into the Lifeboat and they disappeared. I assume they left you two here in the hope of saving his life.” She turns her head to look at Lucy. “I know once you planned to destroy the Mothership, you were willing to live the rest of your life in the past. I hope that’s still true today because if Rufus does die… neither one of you is getting home.”

“Emma…” Lucy steps toward Emma as Garcia presses his arm against her neck to restrain her. “You do understand that Garcia doesn’t need a weapon to kill you, right?” Lucy pauses just long enough for Emma to let out a small huff. “It would be risky, but we could find the Mothership and figure out how to get back, right, Garcia?”

“Anthony taught me some things about piloting before I…” He trails off.

“Before you murdered him?” Emma finishes the sentence Garcia had preferred not to finish. “See, Lucy. Your Garcia isn’t as innocent as you like to think he is.” She laughs and continues. “Oh, so he didn’t murder his wife and daughter, but he _is_ capable of murder.” Emma smiles at her. “Disgusting, the company you keep these days, princess.”

Lucy doesn’t know how to react. Anthony Bruhl’s murder has never been discussed between her and Garcia, nor between him and anyone else in the bunker since she and Denise broke him out of prison to join them. She knows that Garcia is a good man who has done horrible things in his efforts to destroy Rittenhouse. She accepts that about him and doesn’t hold it against him, but by the expression on his face… this is something that haunts him. Something he hasn’t and may never forgive himself for having done.

Emma continues, “Do you really think you could bring yourself to murder me too, Flynn?” Her eyes sparkle with hatred for the man she speaks to. “Knowing what you know about the men who have hurt me? Could you really do worse to me than what those men have done?”

Garcia’s blood boils in his veins as he holds his breath. He could easily kill her right here and now. She has manipulated him. She drove away the men who had joined him when this time traveling fiasco began. She has threatened the woman he loves on countless occasions, even tried to kill her. He knows that killing Emma Whitmore could help them win their war against Rittenhouse.

But he once looked into her eyes and saw a woman broken by the organization. A woman who loves her mother and did what she had to do – against Rittenhouse – to ensure that she and her mother had an out. She was forced to live ten years in the past. He saw in her once a desire, as strong as his own, to destroy Rittenhouse. She killed Lucy’s mother and Lucy’s great-grandfather to try to take over the organization. Under different circumstances, in a different timeline, maybe he could have recruited her, but she’s gone too far in this timeline and secured her position as their archenemy.

He shakes his head and laughs at himself for what he does next.

He leans in toward Emma and speaks to her calmly.

“I’m not going to kill you, Emma. I’m not going to kill you because I think that is exactly what you want. You may have murdered Carol Preston and Keynes, but did that get you what you wanted? No. You thought you’d be able to take over Rittenhouse after they died, but you’ve been shut out again by members in higher standing than you could ever be.” He pauses as she swallows hard, hearing him speak truths she only admits to herself. “You don’t know how to get out of this, and if you tried to walk away you know that they’d force you back. You’re the only pilot they have and they’ll do anything to keep you around. Perhaps they’re already hurting you, forcing you to run these missions. Who are they threatening?” He looks Emma deep in the eyes. “Your mother?”

Emma pushes hard at Garcia’s chest. He stumbles backward into Lucy, who places her hands on his back. She looks at him, but he keeps his eyes on Emma. “You don’t think that I got back from New York in 1919 and didn’t look her up? Your mother?” He wets his lips and steps toward Emma again. “I did, and I’ve kept tabs on her and I _know_ that she disappeared a month after you killed Lucy’s mom. I’ve talked with Lucy about what they did to her when she was held captive. I know that they threaten loved ones if a member is suspected of wanting to-”

Emma punches him hard in the face and takes off running.

Garcia bends over, placing his hand where Emma hit him. He turns his head and watches her run away.

Lucy bends over to check on him. Satisfied that Emma didn’t hurt him, she starts to run after Emma, but Garcia grabs her, wrapping his arm around her waist to stop her.

“Let her go, Lucy.” He sounds defeated.

“We can’t just let her go. If it’s true what she said about Wyatt and Rufus leaving us here, she’s our only way back home. And sure, I was willing to spend the rest of my life in 1918 if I had succeeded in destroying the Mothership when I was with my mother, but…” Lucy shakes her head. “Garcia…”

He shakes his head and repeats himself, “just… let her go.” He lets go of Lucy and bends down to pick up the two tin flasks that contain the fresh water and rum. “Let me take care of you.”

Lucy’s eyes are filled with tears. Is he giving up? Is he resigning himself to accept that they’re stuck here in 1914? Lucy allows him to lead her back to the dugout without saying a word to him about what just happened. She sits down on the sandbags as he lowers himself to one knee in the mud. Without a word, she discreetly takes off her coat and removes her blouse. She sits in the dugout, in the freezing temperature, in just her bra and trousers. She shivers as Garcia tenderly examines her gunshot wound in the dim moonlight.

“This is the worst part about what we do, huh?” He asks, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Using sub-par medicine to treat wounds we obtain while in the past?”

“Garcia…” Lucy’s voice is soft.

He refuses to make eye contact with her as he dabs her wound with Charles’s rum.

Lucy winces as the alcohol stings her wound.

“Garcia… sweetheart…” She whispers as she touches the side of his face.

He shakes his head and looks up into her eyes.

“They’ve won, Lucy.” He says. “Rittenhouse, they’ve won.”

Hearing him say this breaks her heart, but she says nothing and lets him continue without interruption.

“We’re never getting back the people we love. Rittenhouse has taken every step to ensure that. And if Emma has killed Rufus…” He lowers his eyes. “If she killed him then we have no way of fighting them anymore.”

“We still have Jiya.”

“Who’s more confused each day about when and where she is and where she has been. I wouldn’t exactly say that she’d be a reliable pilot. Yesterday morning, she was asking me what it was like to be one of the last survivors to get on a lifeboat before the Titanic sank to the bottom of the ocean. I don’t have to tell you that we’ve never even had to go to 1912 on a mission.”

Lucy nods her head, Jiya had some very specific _personal_ questions for her about the aftermath of their – hasn’t happened yet – Titanic mission too.

“So what? We just give up and let Rittenhouse go back and change history to make them more powerful?” Lucy looks at him. She can’t believe that he would give up so easily. “I refuse to do that. Even if we never get back Amy, or your wife and daughter, don’t we owe it to history? To future generations? To each other, to stop them?”

“And how can we do that if we’re stuck here in 1914?”

Lucy feels the blood drain from her face when he looks her in the eye. He’s serious. He’s serious, and she doesn’t know what to say. They remain silent as he continues to clean her wound, tearing part of the sleeve of her blouse as a makeshift bandage. He ties the fabric tight around her arm and stands with his back to her, and his arms crossed, as she gets dressed.

Lucy stands behind him, her hand hovering near his back. She wants to touch him, to reassure him that this is only a temporary setback, but she doesn’t want to lie or give him false hope. But he needs to know that despite everything, she is here for him. She wraps her arms around his waist and holds him, her face pressed into his back.

He’s tense at first. Unresponsive, but she refuses to let him go. She refuses to step away from him. For him to say that Rittenhouse has won, to accept that he will never save his girls, this breaks her heart. She knows that he’s hurting. And she is hurting with him. Her tears soak into his coat and just as she’s about to step away, she feels him take hold of her arms with his hands.

“It’s a really shitty Christmas we’re having, isn’t it?” She says, holding back tears.

“Not as shitty as the one I had five years ago.”

He lets go of her arms and turns to face her.

“I’m sorry I failed you, Lucy.” Lucy opens her mouth to object, but he continues. “I’m sorry that I didn’t leave when you first broke me out of prison. I’m sorry that I was part of the reason why you and Wyatt aren’t getting along, and I’m sorry that… I’m sorry that I couldn’t save your sister.”

“Garcia, no…”

“No what? Speak the truth?” He laughs as he shakes his head at himself. “The fact is that you wrote about how much better your life was before I was in it. Even after-” He stops himself. What he wants to say is something she knows nothing about: their future relationship.

“Even after what?”

Garcia shakes his head and tries to walk away from her, but she takes hold of his hand to stop him.

“It doesn’t matter anymore because it is never going to happen.”

“What isn’t going to happen?”

“Us.” He motions between them with his hands. “I never should have let you get close to me, Lucy. I should have kept my distance. We never should have become friends. If we were able to get back home, it would only end with you stomping all over my heart because of your love for _Wyatt_ , and the end of our friendship.” He shakes his head, angry with himself. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucy’s confused and wants to understand where all this is coming from so she can talk to him.

Garcia lets out an angry huff. “You want to know what you wrote in your journal?” She nods her head. “I’m in love with you, Lucy. I tried not to fall for you, but I don’t know… destiny or fate willed it to happen, and I love you. And I know that right now you have feelings for me. Feelings that you think mean that you’re in love with me, but I can assure you that you’re wrong. You wrote about how the night we survive the Titanic sinking that I held you in my arms, that I kissed you for the first time, and how I helped take away your pain, and made you feel loved. Well… maybe it did, but it’s bullshit.”

“Garcia…”

“No. You want to know what you wrote, and I’m going to tell you.” He looks at her with hurt in his eyes. “You wrote that you loved me, but also that your love for Wyatt would always stand in the way of you being able to give your heart to me completely. You wrote that you never wanted to hurt me, but you do, or… you were going to. We tried to work it out, but I made the decision to end our relationship and I left after our fight. You never saw or heard from me again. At least not until you made the decision to go back to 2014 to give me your journal.” He laughs at the irony. “That was five years ago tonight that you came to me in São Paulo, well… exactly one-hundred years from now.” He shakes his head. “I wish I had never listened to you. I wish I had trashed the journal and just walked away.”

Tears are streaming down Lucy’s face. She’s rendered speechless, unable to find the words to say to him. He misinterprets her tears and her silence, waves his hand dismissively in the air, and walks away.

\-----

Lucy sat alone in the dugout for hours after she watched Garcia walk away.

He’s afraid.

He’s afraid that she doesn’t love him, that she couldn’t love him. He’s afraid that they can’t get back home and that they’ll have to stay in the past forever. He’s afraid that everything he ever knew from the journal is no longer accurate. He’s afraid that he’s failed his girls. He’s afraid that he’s failed himself, the man he was when he read her journal and accepted the mission to steal a time machine to aid him in destroying Rittenhouse.

Lucy has seen him concerned and worried, but she’s never seen him truly afraid.

Not until tonight.

He told her that he wished he had never done any of this to try to push her away.

Perhaps he’s afraid that in this timeline – one so different from what he read in that journal – that she does love him, and that if they keep going forward, if they keep fighting, that they can win, and that they can get back to a normal life, and that she would choose him over Wyatt. For so long, he thought he knew what the future would hold. He lived day-to-day with that knowledge and it’s been pulled out from under him.

He’s afraid of what the future holds because it is not written in stone.

When he walked away from her, he didn’t glance back at her. But he stayed close to the dugout for a while, which only assured her that he’s dealing with his emotions on his own right now, and when he’s cooled off, he’ll come back, and then she’ll be able to talk to him rationally.

She’s cold, hungry, tired, and misses his company.

She lets out a heavy sigh and stands up. She wants to go find him so she leaves the dugout. She makes her way past soldiers who are busy cleaning their weapons and fixing parts of the trench wall that collapsed during the battle. She passes by two men who sit on top of two wooden boxes, playing a game of cards. She pauses and asks them if they’ve seen the tall Serbian soldier dressed in a British uniform. They nod their heads and point her toward another dugout where they say they saw him sleeping. Lucy thanks them and continues through the mud.

She finds Garcia in the dugout. He’s asleep, sitting in the cold mud with his arms across his chest. Lucy watches him. His chest slowly rises and falls as he breathes. The lines on his face have softened, making him look younger than he is. She takes a breath and sits down next to him in the mud, resting her head on his shoulder. She closes her eyes and hears soldiers whispering among themselves.

“I think it’s a trap.”

“Can’t trust a dirty German.”

“Wanting to fight and kill on Christmas Eve? What kind of monsters are they?”

Lucy opens her eyes and glances up at Garcia to see if the soldier in him has awakened. Her heart is racing. If the soldiers are worried that something is going on with the Germans, this could be bad. She stands up and looks around to see if there’s anything she can stand on to try to peer out over the top of the trench. She sees an empty ammunition box and moves it to the side and stands up on it. She goes up on her toes but she’s still too short. She steps backward and stumbles into the wall, nearly falling down.

“English soldier! English soldier! A happy Christmas!” A man shouts in a heavy German accent.

No one in the trench yells back.

The British soldiers are suspicious. Why would the enemy be calling out to them with Christmas wishes?

“Oh my God.” Lucy whispers in excitement, to herself. She knows exactly what is going on.

She hurries back to Garcia and nudges him, but he doesn’t wake up. She nudges him again, harder. She knows that what is happening is something that he would not want to miss. Even historians don’t know all the details about how the Christmas Truce of 1914 began, nor how it spread or which locations throughout the Western Front took part in it. Her heart is racing now, and not out of fear.

Rittenhouse could not have chosen a better night to go back to. How could she have forgotten that the Christmas Truce took place? It’s Christmas Eve 1914. This event is a legend. Even country western singer, Garth Brooks, sang a song about the truce when she was a Freshman in high school, _Belleau Wood_. She was obsessed with that song and did a research paper about the 1918 battle at Belleau Wood where she found out that the U.S. Marines showed up and the French Army told them to turn back, and how Marine Captain Lloyd Williams replied by telling the French officer: “Retreat? Hell, we just got here.” Granted, there was never any Christmas Truce at Belleau Wood, but it’s a somber and beautiful song nonetheless that captured both the good and darkness of humanity during World War I.

Lucy nudges Garcia again. “Garcia… wake up.”

His head turns and he lets out a soft snore. She doesn’t want to startle him awake, but he needs to see this. He was the one who briefed the team about World War I before they got in the Lifeboat to travel back to 1914, after all. He knows more about the Great War than she does.

“Happy Christmas, English soldier!” Another German voice belts out from across No Man’s Land.

Lucy nudges Garcia again, harder. His lips part and he turns his body toward her. He inhales sharply and sits up straight.

“What’s going on? Is there fighting?” He runs his hands through his hair and stands up.

“No.” Lucy smiles and shakes her head and follows him out of the dugout.

And then they hear it. Lucy is about to open her mouth to tell him that they are in one of the trenches that participated in the Christmas Truce of 1914, but Garcia places his finger on her lips as they hear the German soldiers singing _Silent Night_.

“Stille Nacht… heilige Nacht… Alles schläft, einsam wacht… Nur das traute, hochheilige Paar…”

With the giddiness of a child on Christmas morning, Garcia smiles at her and frantically starts to look around on the ground. He sees the ammunition box and steps up on it to try to look over the top of the trench.

“What do you see?” Lucy asks, unable to conceal the excitement in her voice.

“Small Christmas trees line the barrier of their trench… several unarmed soldiers are standing in No Man’s Land, singing…” Garcia looks down at her and sees that she’s trying to climb the sandbag-lined wall. And in this moment, every doubt that he had about whether or not he should love her is erased. He smiles and laughs as he watches her lift a leg up to try to fit her foot in between two heavily packed sandbags. He steps off the box, stands behind her, and lifts her by her waist until she’s over his head.

There have been times when Lucy has talked to him about how much she’s come to hate history and traveling through time, and even witnessing important historical events. How she doesn’t think that she’d be able to ever love history as she used to, or how she doesn’t think she’d be able to return to teaching history, or even reading about it, or watch documentaries anymore, when and if they had been able to defeat Rittenhouse. But it’s moments like this, when they’re on a mission, and she’ll witness a moment in history. Her eyes light up, and even in the worst of circumstances, that historical moment brings a smile to her face.

For Garcia, there’s no event or person in history that can top the way he feels when he watches her in these moments. To see her so genuinely happy and excited. To see her smile and hear her laughter. It’s contagious. All he ever wants for her is for her to be happy.

Lucy signals to him to put her down. As the Germans continue to sing, Garcia holds Lucy in his arms and sings with them, _sleep in heavenly peace_ , “Schlaf in himmlischer, Ruh…” He leans down to Lucy and rubs his nose against hers, then rests his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry, Lucy.” He whispers, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’m sorry for everything I said back there.”

Lucy swallows hard, unused to anyone apologizing to her for hurting her feelings. Sure, she and Garcia have fought before and made up, complete with apologies, but… this time it feels different. She looks up into his eyes and nods her head, “I… I hope you aren’t sorry for _everything_ you said…” She traces her fingers along the scruff of his jaw, her eyes on his lips. “… that you love me… and how you think that I can’t love you because… Garcia, I…”

He leans toward her, holding onto the back of her head, and kisses her. He doesn’t know what she was about to say, and he didn’t want to risk it turning into an argument about the journal or their future which he’s struggled to accept has been unwritten since he went back to the Hindenburg and started changing their history which she outlined in her journal. He kisses her as if she’s fragile, as if any moment she’ll push him away and slap him as hard as she can.

But she doesn’t.

She opens her mouth to him and whimpers as their tongues intertwine. He feels her fingertips below his chin as she moves her hand to cup his jaw. And she kisses him back. This isn’t surviving the Titanic. This is _their_ first kiss, not the first kiss of the Lucy and Garcia of the journal.

With his heart pounding in his chest, he carefully presses her against the wall of the trench and pours his heart and soul into the kiss. Words can only express so much, and he wants her to feel his love for her. She arches her back, pressing her body against his. He opens his mouth for a breath as he inches closer to her, running his hand slowly down the side of her body, resting it on her waist. He trembles when he feels her finger the hairs at the base of his neck and then she slowly moves her hand to rest over his heart. She stops kissing him and lowers her head and whispers to him.

“I love you too.” She’s breathless. “I know you have your doubts… I know you think that I’ll run back to Wyatt, but Garcia…” She shakes her head and looks up into his eyes. She wants him to understand how wrong he is.

“I know.” He takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles as the voices of the British soldiers in the trench begin singing another Christmas hymn.

“The First Noël, the angels did say… was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay…”

Lucy sighs and rests her head on Garcia’s chest and watches the British soldiers sing. One by one, the soldiers make their way out of the trench to meet up with the enemy in No Man’s Land.

A young redhead, freckle-face soldier in his early twenties passes them, carrying a bar of chocolate in his hand. Heavy bandages can be seen underneath his coat, and both Lucy and Garcia look at each other concerned that maybe someone so heavily bandaged shouldn’t be up on his feet. The young man slows and looks at Lucy, not expecting to see a woman in the trench, wrapped in the arms of another soldier.

“The Germans are giving us gifts.” He tells them. “I thought it might be nice to gift them some fine English chocolates.”

“You have chocolate?” Lucy asks, suddenly remembering how hungry she is.

“Yeah, the nurse who fixed me up, nurse Anna, she gave it to me before leaving.” He smiles. “She was a really nice lady.”

Lucy and Garcia share a look. Did Emma come here to save this man’s life? Why?

The young man looks at Garcia. “Hey, I hear they’re trying to organize a football game, are you in? I’d like to have a man like you on my team.”

With a twinkle in his eye, Garcia looks down at Lucy as if asking her permission.

Lucy smiles and looks at the young man.

“He’ll be right up.”

The man smiles and looks up at Garcia. “My name’s Frank, by the way… Frank Whitmore.”

Lucy wraps her arm around Garcia’s waist as they watch the young man crawl out of the trench.

“He must be the reason why Emma came here.” She says. “I guess that explains why there weren’t any other Rittenhouse agents with her.”

Garcia nods his head. “I think we should leave, Lucy.” He looks down at her. “As much as I’d like to participate in a Christmas Truce football game, it’s not my place in history to do it. And this truce all but guarantees that we won’t run into any trouble as we make our way out of here and try to find the closest town, and something to eat.”

In the empty corridor of the trench, they make their way to the entrance and leave.

As they walk away from the trench, Garcia turns around and pauses for only a moment as he hears both German and English soldiers laughing as they kick around a makeshift football. Then tears well up in his eyes and Lucy touches his arm.

“What is it?” She asks.

“War… humanity…” he shakes his head and wipes the tears away. “Here we are, at the beginning of the Great War and here are these soldiers, most of whom don’t share a common language, who only hours ago were trying to kill each other, and they’re exchanging simple gifts and playing a football game. Laughing, having fun, and celebrating Christmas. I know some places that took part in this truce kept it going until after the new year, but the fighting resumes. And officers on both sides of this war were so angry that it happened that they took measures to ensure that a truce like this never happened again.”

Lucy remains quiet and rubs her hand on his back.

“I’ve seen war, Lucy, been a part of several, and today…” He chokes back tears. “Today… I’ve run through a World War One battlefield, fought enemy soldiers, experienced only a morsel of what life is like in the trenches, and seen something that just doesn’t exist in war.” He points toward the German-British football game. “We so often forget that on both sides of a war that people are just people. We may not agree on everything, we talk badly about the opposing side when the truth is that we know nothing about who they really are. This…” He gestures to No Man’s Land where the football game is being played, “this is who we are, Lucy.” He looks down at her with sadness in his eyes. “No one wants to be here, everyone would rather be home with their loved ones to enjoy the holiday, but these men… they’re showing kindness and friendship to men they’re told to hate, and to kill. And I understand it, I see it, it’s real. I was told as a young soldier, age sixteen, to hate my enemy and kill without asking questions. And Lucy… I hated my enemy, but one day when I was alone on patrol, I came face-to-face with a soldier with the Jugoslovenska narodna armija, the Yugoslav National Army, and I aimed my weapon point-blank in his face. My finger was on the trigger and he was begging for his life and the whole time I’m trembling and wanting to run home to my mom. I had a decision to make… end that man’s life or let him live.”

“What did you do?” Lucy asks quietly. She knows that his military history shows that after the Croatian War of Independence he went on to fight in other wars and saved lives of many innocent people, but he’s never talked to her about his time with the Croatian Army during his first war.

“I didn’t want to kill him, but I still pulled the trigger.” Garcia lowers his head. “That was my first kill.”

Lucy looks up at Garcia as he wipes a tear from his face, and she raises her eyes to keep herself from crying as she rubs his lower back again.

Garcia clears his throat and continues.

“I’ve never been able to forget the look in his eyes the moment I squeezed that trigger, Lucy.” He turns to face her with tears now streaming down his face. “I wish I had the courage then to walk away, to let him live. To… be a decent human being to a man who only wanted to be at home with his loved ones, just as I did.”

Lucy wraps her arms around Garcia’s neck and pulls him down to her and kisses away a tear on his cheek.

“I stood there, Lucy. I stood there with his blood all over me and fell to my knees, sobbing. And I promised myself that I would survive, and I would dedicate my life to saving lives. And I did, Lucy. I chose my wars. I went in and did what I could to help people. And I even chose this war against Rittenhouse because so many lives were at-”

They are startled when they hear a woman clear her throat behind them. Garcia pushes Lucy behind him and takes out his unloaded Glock 23 and aims it at Emma Whitmore. She raises her arms in the air to show them that she’s not here to cause trouble.

“I have a bag of smoked sausage if you’re hungry.” She says. “I got it from one of the German soldiers.”

“I see your gun, Emma.” Garcia says, cocking back the hammer of his unloaded gun. “Unholster it, and toss it over there.”

Emma gives him a look and reluctantly retrieves her weapon and tosses it to the side. Garcia nods at Lucy and she retrieves it.

“Thought you’d be home by now.” He says.

“So did I.”

Lucy hands Garcia Emma’s weapon. He takes it and puts it into his coat pocket.

“Look…” Emma takes one step closer to them. “Do you two want to get back home or not?”

“What?” Lucy’s face contorts in confusion.

“It’s Christmas and I figured if the British and the Germans can get along for a few measly hours that…” Emma rolls her eyes at herself, “… that I can at least save the asses of my enemy.” She looks at them and smiles. “It wouldn’t be fun going on these missions without having to outsmart you and your pathetic team anyway.”

“Are you serious?” Garcia narrows his eyes.

“Very.” Emma looks at Lucy. “Plus… I’m kinda curious to see how this all ends. You only wrote in your little diary until 2023, and if I left you here now then that would render it useless to us, and I’m not sure I like the idea of not knowing what might come next. I have to say… I was really looking forward to stranding you on the Titanic. That’s our next trip, by the way.” Emma laughs and looks at Garcia. “Probably just as much as you were looking forward to surviving it so you can get in her pants.”

Garcia’s jaw tightens.

Lucy steps toward Emma and looks her in the eye, searching for any detection of betrayal, “You’ll take us home?”

“Girl Scouts honor.” Emma raises three fingers in the Girl Scouts honor sign.

Lucy nods her head and looks back at Garcia. Neither of them is one-hundred percent sure they can trust Emma, but she’s all they’ve got to get them back to 2019.

\-----

It’s a calm Christmas Eve night on the coast of San Francisco, 2019, as the Mothership blasts sand into the air as it lands on a secluded beach. The blue lights spin to a stop and the white hatch door opens. Garcia lowers Lucy down from the machine first, not wanting to risk him dismounting ahead of her and Emma taking off with Lucy as her prisoner. Once Lucy is on the beach, he turns and looks at Emma. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she keeps showing up with surprises.

“So, what do you get out of our little Christmas Truce, Emma?”

“Do you really think being chased around by Wyatt and Rufus would be a challenge for me?” She pauses. “At least you and Lucy keep it interesting.”

“Who is Frank?” He asks, throwing her off guard.

“Why does it matter to you?”

“It matters because you seem to have taken the Mothership out without permission from your elders.” Garcia crosses his arms, giving her a look. “I know you’re related, but why save him? Why change his history? You already said you weren’t there for Rittenhouse so…?”

“He’s my great-great grandfather, if you must know.” Emma, in a rare moment of vulnerability, looks down and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Basically, he died that Christmas Eve and his wife lost her mind. She became abusive to her infant son, my great-grandfather, who went on to abuse his family, and so on and so forth.” She pauses. “You know what they say about the cycle of abuse, right?”

“Emma…” Garcia actually feels sorry for her. Despite the awful things she’s done, she’s done them for reasons not that different from his and Lucy’s, just… on the other side of their war.

Before he can say anything that would make her express more emotion than she already is, she continues.

“I won’t know for sure, but I hope that in saving Frank’s life that maybe he survived the rest of the Great War, and that his son never got abused and that the _tradition_ never carried on in my family.”

Garcia nods his head.

“And you’re not worried that changing your history could have erased you, or… done something worse to your mother?” He asks.

“You said that you did your research, that my mom disappeared after I…” Emma looks down at Lucy, “… after I shot and killed Carol?” Garcia nods. “She didn’t exactly disappear because of them. I… I moved her to San Francisco so that she would be closer to me. I wanted to keep an eye on her because I don’t… I don’t trust Rittenhouse.”

Garcia nods his head, relieved that Emma’s mother is safe. He looks down and sees that Lucy had been listening in on their conversation as well.

“Emma…” Lucy starts as she helps steady Garcia as he makes his way off the Mothership. “I know that you hate me and that you want to…” She shakes her head. “If your joining Rittenhouse, or your staying with them even after everything… I guess what I’m trying to say is that if there’s ever a time that you feel you want to leave them…”

Emma looks down at Lucy, unsure of what she’s trying to say, but she speaks up to stop her from talking, “Look, princess-”

“If you ever want to leave Rittenhouse, all you have to do is reach out to me.” Lucy concludes.

Emma blinks her eyes in disbelief and is stunned into silence.

After every horrible thing that Emma has done to Lucy. How she obeyed Carols orders and went back in time to ensure that her precious sister could never be brought back to existence. How she manipulated and betrayed Garcia Flynn. He stands beside Lucy now and looks up at her with an expression on his face that he too would be willing to accept her if she ever chose to leave Rittenhouse.

“We know that Rittenhouse threatens its members, Emma. Like Garcia said earlier… if they ever threaten your mom, or if they already are, and that’s the only reason you’re still doing as they order… I know that you killed my mom and my great-grandfather to try to take over, but it didn’t work and it can’t be easy for you to feel like you’re a sitting duck among those who look at you as a traitor.”

Emma rolls her eyes only because she doesn’t want the tears that threaten to fall to become noticeable to Lucy and Garcia. She shakes her head and fakes a laugh.

“Look, princess. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a very long time.”

“All she’s saying…” Garcia speaks up, “… is that if you ever want help taking them down, you can turn to us. I’m not saying being accepted by our team would be easy, Hell, I’m still working on making amends, but…”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Emma says, peering out behind them. She sees a pair of headlights headed toward the beach. “Looks like this is my cue to go.” She says, turning away from them. She looks back one last time and before closing the hatch of the Mothership, she tells them, “Merry Christmas.”

As the Mothership disappears, Garcia moves Lucy’s hair away from her eyes. He looks toward the headlights.

“Do you think that’s Agent Christopher?” Garcia asks.

“Yes.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Have I not told you?” Lucy asks, surprised.

“Told me what?”

“I had her chip me in case Rittenhouse ever kidnapped me again.” Lucy turns around and pulls her hair back so he can see the implant just beneath the hairline on her neck.

“How have I _not_ noticed that?” He laughs at himself as he touches her skin. “I wake up behind you every morning and somehow I haven’t seen it?”

“Maybe your mind is elsewhere when you wake up, hm?” Lucy winks at him and bumps her shoulder against him. She winces. “Oh God, that hurts.”

“Kind of how you forgot that your arm is injured because you’re flirting with me?” He winks back.

A car slows behind them and comes to a stop.

“Looks like our ride is here.” Lucy says, taking hold of Garcia’s hand and leading him into the back seat of the car.

\-----

After getting her ass chewed out by the current leadership of Rittenhouse, Emma left and for the first time in thirteen years she’s making her way to spend Christmas Eve with her mother. While it’s been thirteen years for her, the last time she spent the holiday with her mom was in 2016, three years ago.

She’s nervous. She hasn’t seen her mom since she had to live ten years in the 1800s. Yes, she moved her mother to live in San Francisco, but she didn’t help her move and she hasn’t had time to visit as Rittenhouse is determined to keep her busy.

Emma pulls up in the driveway and turns off the engine of her car.

She lets out a sigh and looks at the house. It’s decorated with a corny inflatable snowman front and center in the yard. Twinkling colored lights outline the windows. A beautiful wreath is on the front door. The only thing needed to complete the look is snow, but this is California and conditions aren’t right to turn it into a winter wonderland.

Emma gets out of the car and wishes that stores had been open so she could have at least bought her mom a present. But, it is what it is, and she hopes that her just being here is good enough for her mom.

She knocks on the door and then rings the bell and waits.

She’s nervous.

Was she able to change her mother’s history by saving the life of her great-great grandfather, Frank Whitmore? She doesn’t know, but she knows that she’s about to find out.

The door opens and Emma looks down at two children, a boy and a girl, who have opened the door. They look up at Emma and giggle.

“Aunt Emma!” The girl shrieks and wraps her arms around Emma’s waist.

“Aunt…?” Emma says to herself as she sees her mother approaching the door.

“Emma, honey, is that you?”

“Mom?”

And for the first time in thirteen years, Emma’s arms wrap around her mother, holding her close in a tight hug. Emma closes her eyes and prays that she doesn’t cry. If she cries her mother will ask her all sorts of questions that she’s not prepared to answer.

“Emma!” Her mother holds her face in both hands and kisses her. “I was beginning to think you had turned into the Grinch! You look tired.” She brushes her hand over Emma’s hair. “Is that job of yours killing you? It looks like it’s added ten years to your life.” She kisses Emma on the cheek.

“I’d rather not talk about work.” Emma says, stunned that her mother doesn’t stink of cigarettes.

Emma’s mom takes hold of her hand and leads her into the living room. As they walk through the foyer, Emma looks at the framed photographs on the wall. There’s a picture of her as a child, being held in her father’s arms on a beach. There’s a photo of her as a four or five year old, sitting next to some baby in a hospital bed. A family portrait from when she was thirteen years old, wearing braces, and… who is the little girl standing next to her? And… there’s a picture she’s never seen before of her parents, a portrait, where her mom is leaning her head against her father’s shoulder. The photo can’t be more than five years old.

Emma is stunned, the last time she saw her father she was seventeen years old in 2003, when she and her mom ran away from him and moved out to California. She stops herself from shaking her head in disbelief. How is it that… and then she sees him.

Her father.

He’s wearing an ugly Christmas sweater of Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer, which is battery-powered and the nose is lit up along with all the other gaudy twinkling Christmas lights that adorn it.

“Emma!” He exclaims and wraps his arms around her.

“Dad…” Emma doesn’t know what to do. She created this. She fixed this so… she wraps her arms around him and trusts that he won’t hit her or lash out at her mother. “I’ve… missed you.”

He kisses her on the cheek and points at another woman in the room, someone Emma doesn’t recognize. “Annie is here too… and I think it’s obvious, but she has some exciting news to share with you.” He pauses and calls out, “Annie! Your sister actually showed up this year!”

The younger woman – also a readhead, slightly shorter – runs toward Emma, her pregnant belly reaching Emma before her arms can wrap around her.

“So, the Grinch makes an appearance.” Annie laughs and then points at her pregnant belly. “Announcing _this_ is mine and Mark’s first Christmas gift for the family.”

“Wow.” Is about all Emma can say to this sister that she hadn’t had before. “When are you due?”

“In April, right around your birthday, actually.” Annie smiles up at Emma. “Mark’s agreed that if she’s born on your birthday that we’ll name her after you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Emma laughs nervously and looks at her mom.

Her mom stands with her arm around her father’s waist.

The two children who answered the door run past them screaming with excitement because in the corner of the living room sits an older man, Emma’s grandfather whom she’s never met, but only seen in official military pictures taken of him during the Korean War, Charles Whitmore.

He’s pointing at the TV and telling the kids that the news is about to report on Santa’s current whereabouts. He laughs as the children giggle, sitting down in front of the television.

Emma makes her way into the living room and sits on the couch and looks at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree. She takes in the joyous sounds of her family – the family who’s history she’s changed – enjoying the holiday together. She watches as her father sits down behind a grand piano and starts playing _I’ll Be Home For Christmas_. Tears well up in Emma’s eyes and she quickly wipes them away. She’s never seen her family happy. Before, in front of others, they only pretended to be happy. But behind closed doors, even on nights like Christmas Eve, there was always shouting, glass breaking and the smell of alcohol and cigarettes in the air. And she would lock herself in the bathroom and sit with her arms around her knees as she listened to her parents fight.

But she’s changed that, and only she remembers how it used to be.

Emma takes her phone out of her pocket and looks at her niece and nephew – whose names she still doesn’t know – does she really want them, or anyone in her family to grow up or to live in the world that Rittenhouse is trying to create?

The honest to God answer to that question is no.

All she has to do is make a phone call to Homeland Security and ask for Agent Denise Christopher, and ask her to transfer the call to either Lucy Preston or Garcia Flynn. And for some reason, Emma thinks that it might be easier to tell Lucy that she’s considering her offer to join her team and leave Rittenhouse for good. Because yes, Rittenhouse has been threatening her mother, and now that she sees that her family is larger and happier than before… there’s no way in Hell she wants Rittenhouse to win. Joining Lucy might put them in danger, but she could easily explain to them that her job isn’t what she’s made it out to be and they need to go into hiding for a little while.

Emma sighs.

No, she won’t ruin Lucy’s Christmas Eve any more than she already has this year – she’s actually feeling guilty for having shot her in the arm. She won’t call her and stir things up as part of her little Christmas Truce between them. She’ll leave them alone.

The display on her phone lights up and she clicks on the notification and reads a text from Jessica.

JESSICA: They want you to come back. Decided that tonight is the night we go back to Titanic. No mission, just get Lucy and the others to follow us there, board the ship and then hope they die when it sinks. See you soon, Jess.

Out of habit, Emma starts replying that she’ll be back as soon as she can. Then she stops and deletes her response before she can send it. No. She’s not going to let Rittenhouse take this Christmas Eve away from her. She’s been training Jessica how to pilot the Mothership. She’s not the best pilot, but Emma doesn’t think that she’ll disintegrate anyone. And if Jessica refuses to do it, Rittenhouse can always fall back on Stanley Fisher. Not that they want to, but they have been keeping tabs on him as well.

Emma sighs and turns off her phone and sets it on the end table. She reaches forward and takes a copy of _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_ off of the coffee table and goes to sit down next to the children in front of the TV.

“So… do you want your aunt Emma to read you a Christmas story?” She asks them. They squeal with delight and the girl hops right into her lap and plants a big wet kiss on Emma’s cheek. Emma smiles back and wonders how in the world she’s going to figure out these kids’ names before the end of the night. But it doesn’t matter because… “Every _Who_ down in _Who_ -ville liked Christmas a lot… But the Grinch who lived just north of _Who_ -ville, did NOT!”

\-----

Lucy gently rubs her thumb across Garcia’s arm as they lie in bed next to each other. After Agent Christopher’s men dropped them off at the bunker, they were relieved to find that Rufus was still alive and had been patched up. He’s not happy that he has to wear a sling to stabilize his arm, but it’s better than being dead.

Lucy sighs.

She’s never been able to sleep on Christmas Eve night, not since she was a child. The excitement of knowing that in only a few hours she’ll have presents to open keeps her anxious.

Her eyes go wide as she remembers that she didn’t put a gift tag on her gift to Garcia. She inhales sharply as she realizes that she really wanted to give him her gift in private, not in front of the others. _Oh God…_ she turns her head and looks back at Garcia. He’s asleep. At least, she hopes he’s asleep. She carefully holds his wrist and moves his arm off of her. She stands up and leaves the room.

The little jingle bells on the pom poms of her Mrs. Claus and Santa Claus socks make their own music as she enters the commons area. She plugs in the Christmas tree lights and walks over to the record player and carefully places the needle on an old _The Carpenters: A Christmas Portrait_ vinyl record. The instrumental _Christmas Waltz_ from _The Nutcracker_ plays as she kneels in front of the Christmas tree and searches through the wrapped gifts.

She picks up a rather heavy present, feels like a rather large dictionary. The gift tag says “from Jiya, to Wyatt.” Lucy tries not to laugh as she thinks back to accusing Garcia of gifting Wyatt an English-German dictionary. She sets the gift back where she found it and keeps searching.

By the time she’s laying flat on her stomach under the tree it occurs to her that the gift she is looking for is one that she wrapped only yesterday morning and had to slide it underneath hers and Garcia’s bed to hide it from him when he returned early from being forced to take another cold shower.

She sighs and listens to Karen Carpenter sing the end of _Merry Christmas, Darling_.

_Logs on the fire  
Fill me with desire  
To see you and to say_

_That I wish you Merry Christmas  
Happy New Year too  
I’ve just one wish on this Christmas Eve  
I wish I were with you_

Lucy stares up at the tree towering above her. She shakes her head at herself. If anything, she could go back to hers and Garcia’s room and get her present and attempt to re-wrap it.

“Looking for this?” Garcia asks.

Lucy laughs as Garcia lowers himself and crawls underneath the Christmas tree to join her. He’s holding the present she got for him in his hand.

“I found it laying underneath the bed next to the present I was hiding from you.” He explains.

Lucy laughs quietly so not to wake the others, and tells him “I… I forgot I hid it and I wanted to give it to you in private. And now you know that Lucy Preston can and will crawl under a Christmas tree-”

“To shake presents and try to figure out what everyone got each other?” He finishes.

“No…” Lucy attempts to back out, but her hair gets caught in a branch. “But I do think that Jiya might have actually gotten Wyatt a dictionary.” She tells him as he untangles her hair from the tree.

“Can you keep a secret?” He asks.

“Sometimes.”

“Jiya got him a thesaurus. She told me that she would love for Wyatt to improve, no… she said, spice up, his vocabulary.”

Lucy laughs. “He does use the word ‘thing’ a lot to describe things.” He gives her a look and she playfully punches his arm. “It’s not lost on me that I described a thing with the word thing.” She tries to crawl out from under the tree again, but Garcia places his hand on her arm, stopping her.

“Here.” He holds out his present for her. It’s a small box wrapped in shimmering green paper with curled silver ribbon on top. “I… I wanted to give you this in private too.”

Lucy takes the box and admires his wrapping skills. Compared to her, he might as well work as a professional gift wrapper in a Hallmark Store.

“It’s so pretty that I don’t want to rip the paper!” She exclaims as she starts ripping the paper.

Garcia wets his bottom lip nervously as she tosses the wrapping paper to the ground and looks at the black velvet box. She opens it and gasps, holding her hand over her heart as she removes the golden locket she gave to the little Chinese girl in 1888. She shakes her head in disbelief and looks at Garcia as tears fill her eyes. She opens her mouth to thank him, to say something meaningful, but nothing comes out.

“Open it.” He says with a twinkle in his eye.

Lucy opens the locket and the pictures that she thought she lost of her and Amy are inside.

“Garcia, I… I don’t know what to say.” She reaches out and holds the back of his head and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

She rolls over to lie on her back as she unclasps the necklace chain.

“There’s… one more thing that goes with it, Lucy…”

Lucy lifts her head and watches as Garcia slides his wedding ring off his finger. He takes a deep breath. “I… I want you to wear my ring around your neck too, but… only if that’s something you want.”

Lucy sits up and hits her head on the tree branches again. She’s shaking her head.

“No. Garcia, no. I couldn’t possibly… I don’t want you to take it off if you’re not ready.”

“I’ve thought about it for a long time, Lucy.” He looks her in the eye for permission to place the ring on the locket’s chain. Lucy nods her head, stunned. “In the journal, you… you wrote about how my wearing it made you doubt my commitment to you. You wrote about how I wore it up until we broke up. I… Lucy, draga… I don’t want you to have any doubts about how I feel for you. And one day, if I can save my girls… I want to give that ring to Iris so she can wear it around her neck.”

The tears stream down Lucy’s face. He’s talking about how he still wants to save Lorena and Iris, and he’s giving her his wedding ring, not because he wants to be able to wear it again if and when he saves his wife, but because he wants his daughter to have it. He lies on his side and takes the necklace from her hand and reaches behind her neck to clasp it. He places a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead and then pulls away, watching her as she wipes more tears from her face.

Their eyes meet and she smiles at him, and he smiles back then glances mischievously at her gift for him. She nods her head toward it to let him know he can open it. He takes it, admires her patchwork wrapping skills.

“There’s a staple in the paper…” He’s amused.

“Yeah… I… I couldn’t find the tape right away and you were in the shower so I didn’t have a lot of time…”

“I like it… it’s got a mix of the elegant white wrapping paper and leftovers of… Elf on the Shelf…?”

“I majored in history, not gift wrapping.” She playfully slaps his arm. “Just open it.”

He wiggles his eyebrows and dismantles her wrapping in the blink of an eye to reveal…

“A journal?” He sounds disappointed as he flips through the pages. “You… wrote a journal and gave it to me? Again?”

“To be fair, I’ve not gone back to 2014 to do that, so this is… different.”

“What? Are you going to ask me to go back and give it to myself?”

Lucy shakes her head. He keeps flipping through the pages without stopping to read anything. She touches his arm. “Garcia… I… I started writing that last year. All I could think about was how I was supposed to go back and give you a journal to help guide you in the fight against Rittenhouse.”

He looks at her with a sadness in his eyes and then reads the first entry of the journal.

“There was a time I barely remember now, before all this. I have to remind myself what it was like then. A time when I had a mother I trusted, a sister I adored, a life that was familiar, safe. And then time travel happened and history changed.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Lucy… this is _the_ journal. This is the exact first entry from the journal you gave me in São Paulo.”

“It’s not.” She smiles at him. “I made a few entries with my trip back to 2014 in mind and then… I couldn’t do it. I kept thinking about everything you sacrificed in this fight, how you thought you had lost your humanity, how you believed you weren’t worthy of love, and I decided that I won’t go back. I don’t need to go back. It’s already happened and our future is not written. So… I started writing my entries as letters to you.”

Garcia looks down at the journal in his hands and opens it again, this time really looking at what she wrote.

“In them I thank you for being here for me when Wyatt was being an asshole. I write about how much I appreciate your friendship, how you’re the easiest person for me to talk to. I wanted you to read my thoughts about you before I had the guts to tell you that I love you. I want you to know that you’re my best friend. I even admit in one of the entries that I wanted to learn Croatian so that later in our life together I can connect more easily with your family in Croatia.”

Garcia keeps his eyes lowered as he flips through the journal. He wipes his eye with the back of his hand.

“I wrote about how I want us to go to Paris so you can get to know your brother and his family. How I want to meet your mom because I’ve fallen in love with her through the stories that you’ve told me about her.” Lucy wipes a tear from her face and inches toward Garcia. “I’m not going back to 2014 because the life I want is right here in front of me. There’s no reason for me to go back because I don’t want to risk losing what I already have.”

“Lucy, I… you don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that.” He wipes his eyes again. “All this time I’ve thought that no matter what you would go back to 2014 to give me your journal. That you thought it was absolutely necessary to send me on that path, and that it would happen over and over again. I thought… and I was wrong… that you were content to… set me out on this journey that you understood would destroy me. The Lucy that gave me that first journal… she wasn’t you. She was some other Lucy that told me that I couldn’t save my girls but somehow that was ok because I would end up a hero.” He shakes his head. “Her words broke me and I’ll be honest with you, I set out to steal the Mothership to try to take out Rittenhouse so I could save my girls and prove her wrong. I was furious with the Lucy who gave me that journal, and then… I met you at the Hindenburg and… you were nothing like her. You wear your heart on your sleeve. You care about me.”

“Correction… I love you.” Lucy smiles as she leans in to kiss him.

“I jako te volim…”

Garcia rubs his nose against hers and carefully rolls her onto her back beneath the Christmas tree and kisses her, holding his hand over her locket and his ring on her chest. Lucy turns her head to catch her breath and giggles as he plants little kisses along her neck.

“Your stubble tickles.”

“I can shave later.”

“Don’t.” She takes hold of his face and kisses him again. “I think it’s sexy.”

“Then I’ll make sure to maintain it well.”

He rests his hand on her hip and uses his thumb to lift up her pajama top so he can slowly slide his hands up toward her breast.

HRRRNG! HRRRNG! HRRRNG!

The Mothership alarm sounds and they notice, but they don’t care.

Garcia’s hand rests on her rib cage as he nibbles on her ear, and she weaves her hands through his hair and kisses his jaw. They hear the footsteps of their bunkmates as everyone gathers to find out where the Mothership has jumped to now. But they remain under the Christmas tree, kissing.

“Where are Flynn and Lucy?” Wyatt asks, running into the common area. “I thought Denise said she picked them up.”

Wyatt sees Rufus and Jiya and suddenly begins to limp, playing up the “injury” he sustained in 1914. What? Is he trying to out-do Rufus who wears a sling around his arm because he was actually shot? Jiya gives him a dirty look and shakes her head.

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re still asleep. I’ll go check. Flynn’s a lot more pleasant to wake up when Lucy stays in his room.” Rufus says.

“Umm, guys…” Jiya says. “I… I think they’re under the Christmas tree.”

“What?!” Rufus and Wyatt exclaim at the same time.

The group walks together and stands at Garcia’s bare feet, and Lucy’s holiday Mrs. Claus and Santa Claus sock-covered feet. She shifts her feet as they fall deeper into their kiss and the jingle bells jingle on the sock’s pom poms. The three of them look down at their two teammates. Rufus rolls his eyes and digs into his pants pocket and hands Jiya a five-dollar bill. Wyatt stands there with his jaw dropped.

“Lucy… Flynn…” Jiya says their names as she kneels down in front of the tree. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the Mothership jumped again and we kinda need you two to come out from under the tree so we can, you know, figure out what to do.” She pokes at Lucy’s foot.

Lucy laughs and slides out from under the tree. Her hair is a mess. Garcia slides out and sits next to her. His hair is also a mess. They look up at their teammates.

“Rittenhouse just jumped to Cherbourg, France. April tenth, 1912.” Rufus says.

Lucy and Garcia look at each other and laugh.

“What the Hell is she thinking?” Garcia asks Lucy.

“Is she trying to follow the old journal?” Lucy responds with a question. Then her eyes light up and she pokes Garcia hard in the chest, he feigns that it hurts but he’s smiling like an idiot. “What if we just didn’t follow Emma this one time?”

“Can you imagine the look on her face when we don’t follow her to the Titanic?!” Garcia actually snorts while laughing.

Jiya looks back at Rufus and Wyatt, not understanding what is going on. They shrug their shoulders and just figure that in a minute Lucy and Garcia will be back to normal.

However…

Garcia stands up, hands Lucy the journal, and helps her to her feet. Then, without warning, he swoops her up into his arms and starts heading down the hallway toward their room.

“FLYNN!” Wyatt calls out to him, but is ignored.

The three of them watch, dumbfounded, as Garcia and Lucy disappear into their bunk and the metal door clanks shut. They are quiet for a moment.

“I guess they don’t want to go to the Titanic.” Jiya says.

“Well, there’s no way I’m boarding a doomed ship, with my arm in a sling, in 1912 without Flynn on board.” Rufus says, throwing his free hand up into the air.

“So… we’re really doing this?” Wyatt asks. “Letting Rittenhouse do whatever they want with the Titanic?”

“Looks like.” Jiya answers as she unplugs the lights on the Christmas tree.

Rufus scratches the back of his neck as Jiya loops her arm around his and leads him back to their room, leaving Wyatt all alone in the common area.

Wyatt shakes his head and sits down on the couch. He rubs his knee, looking back to see if Rufus or Jiya will ask how he’s doing since he fell down in that battlefield. It doesn’t really hurt. He just wants the attention. He pouts as they disappear into their own room.

Wyatt doesn’t notice, but Connor pokes his head out of his bedroom door, sees that Wyatt is pouting, and quietly shuts the door again, not wanting to get sucked into listening to Wyatt complain about an injury that he claims he has that is really non-existent.

Wyatt glances at the Christmas tree, and then behind him to make sure he’s alone. He gets up and without limping, he walks to the tree. He sits cross-legged and picks up the heavy gift that Jiya is giving to him. He shakes it and holds it up to his ear. He hears nothing so he starts picking at the tape to see if he can open it without it looking like he’s opened it. He succeeds and carefully tugs at the gift to take it out of the paper. He scrunches his brow when he sees that it’s a-

“Dinosaurus…” He seems confused. “Duh.” He shakes his head at his own stupidity and reads the title of the book again. “Thesaurus, but… what would I ever do with a thing like this?”

He does his best to get the thesaurus back in the wrapping paper, but come morning… Jiya is going to know that he’s opened it. Wyatt pulls his knees up toward his chest as he hears Lucy giggle down the hallway and Garcia saying something to her in some language Wyatt doesn’t understand as Karen Carpenter sings on the record player…

_Silent night, holy night  
All is calm, all is bright  
‘Round yon virgin Mother and Child  
Holy infant so tender and mild  
Sleep in heavenly peace  
Sleep in heavenly peace_

And with that, Wyatt stands up, turns off the record player and heads back down the hallway to his room. He passes Lucy and Garcia’s room and pauses. He holds up his hand to knock and then hears Lucy tell Garcia “I love you.” Wyatt lowers his hand. No. He can’t do this anymore. Lucy’s made her choice and if she’s happy with Garcia Flynn, then he’ll do his best to be happy for her, for them both. Wyatt sighs and continues down the hallway, enters his room and closes the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Emma turning against Rittenhouse has been stuck in my head since the season 1 finale when we saw her stepping into the Mothership. I always figured that if Timeless had gone on for several seasons that she would join Lucy's team to try to help them take down Rittenhouse. This is just one scenario that played out in my head that could get her there.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story and I wish you all a very happy holiday! ♥


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